Unattached Drifter Christmas
by Connie Welsh
Summary: Dean stumbling into the kitchen looking like he got steamrolled was not exactly way Sam had imagined spending the morning after Valentine's Day. Nevertheless, he was an adaptable guy, and some lazy shower sex was just what the doctor ordered for a bad hangover. Sequel to "Working On the Night Moves", but can be read independently. Coda to "Love Hurts"


It would be more than fair to say that Sam considered Dean wanting to go out for Valentine's Day a huge relief.

Things were good between them, _really_ good actually, better than they had been in years. But in the span of time since they'd officially started sleeping together again, Dean hadn't seemed that eager to get back out onto the playing field. That nagged at Sam. Monogamy was never something either of them wanted from each other, and Sam had thought that with everything between them feeling good and easy (fuck, when was the last time he had been able to say that about him and Dean?) that his brother would be excited about the prospect of falling back into their favorite sex hobby; one night stands with strangers, followed by a filthy recap to each other the next day, resulting in really spectacular morning sex.

So when Dean announced that he was going out, Sam couldn't help but feel excited. He bid his brother good luck, politely turning down the invitation to come along; he wasn't typically a fan of the types of establishments that Dean liked to go sex-seeking. No, his night was definitely more pleasantly spent reading or relaxing by himself, waiting to hear whatever story Dean would have to tell come morning.

Needless to say, seeing Dean fumble into the kitchen the next day looking like he got steamrolled was a bit disappointing. He watched as his brother stared dejectedly into a carton of leftover Chinese, and considered banging some pots and pans around just to see exactly how deep in hangover land Dean was.

He decided against it, taking the high road (kind of; teasing Dean about getting a hickey was too good of an opportunity to pass up) and talking work instead.

"Alright, we'll check it out," Dean finally conceded, "but first- I need bacon."

"No, first, you need a shower," Sam replied, giving Dean a look. Normally Sam was all for Dean's "morning after" smell; sex and perfume mixed alluringly with Dean's cologne. It was enough to make Sam's mouth water and his dick hard most days, but unfortunately today was a day when the smell of stale sweat, alcohol, and that greasy "bar smell" overrode any of the nicer scents Sam had looked forward to.

Sam shook his head as Dean ambled away, eyes barely open and coffee cup still in hand.

"Idiot," he mumbled fondly, closing his laptop and standing up. He gave Dean a couple minutes head start in the shower (put away the laptop, rinse out his coffee cup), before finally following him into the bathroom.

The mirrors were already starting to get foggy with steam, and Sam wasted no time stripping out of his clothes. He left them in a pile on the sink, knowing they were going to be damp with humidity by the time they were done, but he didn't much care when there was the sight of Dean's pretty, naked back under a stream of hot water.

"Hey," Sam murmured, stepping up behind him and wrapping his arms loose and relaxed around his waist.

Dean hummed absentmindedly, tilting his wet head back against Sam's shoulder and leaning his water-slick body flush against Sam's.

Sam shivered a little at the contrast of Dean's shower-hot skin and the damp air of the bathroom, and he laid a gentle kiss on Dean's neck, directly over the hickey he had mocked Dean for not ten minutes ago.

"So... good night?" he remarked casually, and Dean groaned.

"Sammy, I am way too hungover for shower sex," he complained gruffly, and Sam chortled, laying another kiss on Dean's neck.

"I know. You're an idiot. You look like hammered shit," he said, and Dean chuffed.

"Oh fuck off."

"Which is why," Sam continued, hands slowly trailing up Dean's wet chest, "you're just going to sit still and let me be nice to you."

"Yeah?" Dean asked gruffly, placing his hands over Sam's and tracing Sam's fingers delicately, "And what exactly did you have in mind?"

"Well, I was thinking," he said, placing a kiss behind Dean's ear, "That I'd wash your hair for you first. Then maybe jerk you off, if I felt generous enough. Make you feel really relaxed today."

Dean gave a low, longing moan and Sam smiled, his hands making their way back down Dean's chest to wrap loosely around his brother's half-hard cock.

He gave a gentle stroke, his thumb circling the head leisurely and Dean moaned again.

"Love you, Sammy," he sighed, melting a little in Sam's arms and Sam chuckled.

"Love you too, idiot," he murmured warmly, giving another lazy stroke before letting go and placing his hands on Dean's hips; gently encouraging him to turn around.

"Shampoo first," he chided when Dean looked disappointed, and Dean rolled his eyes but didn't say anything as Sam squeezed a dollop of shampoo onto his palm, "Come 'ere."

Sam ran his hands over Dean's head, spreading the shampoo and working up the lather gently. Dean tilted his head back, eyes closed, and wrapped his arms around Sam's waist with a sigh.

Sam smiled, applying gentle pressure with his fingertips to Dean's scalp and rubbing in rhythmic circles. Dean was putty in no time; half asleep on his feet as Sam's hands stroked relaxing touches through his hair.

His brother looked so content that Sam couldn't resist leaning in for a kiss, and Dean gave a quiet moan. He tasted like coffee, which Sam was grateful for, and the kiss turned supple and sweet immediately.

"Keep your eyes closed," Sam murmured softly against Dean's lips, guiding him back into the spray of water to wash the shampoo out. Dean moaned again as Sam pushed the suds back through Dean's hair and away from his face.

"There we go," Sam said quietly, stroking his hands down the back of Dean's head to cradle his neck, and Dean blearily opened his eyes.

A small, sleepy smile spread over Dean's lips, and Sam leaned in to taste it before sinking to his knees.

Dean let out a shivery breath of surprise, wet hands sliding over Sam's shoulders as his brother took his cock in his mouth, sucking slow and deep as his hands cradled Dean's hips.

"Not that I'm complaining," Dean said huskily, "but I thought I was just getting a handjob?"

Sam pulled off with a panted laugh, looking up at Dean and squinting as the water bouncing off of Dean's body dripped in a mist onto his face.

"Decided to be extra generous. It is Valentine's Day, after all."

Dean chortled and Sam leaned in again, keeping his mouth lax and leisurely around his brother's length, taking his time and rubbing his tongue languidly against the stiff flesh.

Dean let out a pleased sigh, cradling Sam's head and Sam hummed as hot water flowed down his brother's arms to wet his head. He smiled as Dean began to stroke his hands over Sam's hair, helping to saturate the soft strands with water.

They fell into the same rhythm instinctually, Dean's hands and Sam's mouth. Sam felt a little hypnotized by the feel and the white-noise of the shower; the sound only punctuated by the warm, pleased moans from Dean's throat. It wasn't until his jaw started to ache and water was dripping down his back from his soaked hair that he looked up at his brother, meeting his lust-blown eyes.

"Look pretty all wet, Sammy," Dean rumbled, and Sam chuckled lowly. He made a show of sliding slow and wet up Dean's length and Dean shuddered deliciously.

"Even prettier with a cock in your mouth," Dean let out on a shaky breath, and Sam laved at the tip of Dean's cock in answer, watching his brother through the mist of water droplets falling about them from the shower head.

Dean made a jolted sound, fingers tightening in Sam's hair and Sam rubbed his tongue a little harder, coaxing more of the bitter taste of pre-come from Dean's dick.

"Fuck yeah, Sammy," he groaned, and Sam made an answering sound as he relaxed his throat and swallowed down as much of Dean as he could. Dean gave a breathless cry and jerked forward, curled over Sam as Sam sucked and swallowed sloppily around as much of Dean as he could fit in his mouth, eyes closed heavily in pleasure.

"Fuck, fuck," Dean panted, finally close to the edge, and Sam released one of his hands from its' tight grip on Dean's hip to slide into the cleft of Dean's ass, rubbing his hole with firm pressure that almost made Dean's knees buckle as he came with a half-strangled shout.

Sam swallowed rapidly, drinking down Dean's orgasm and practically holding Dean up as he shook and panted. Finally the last pulses of Dean's climax subsided and ceased, and Sam pulled slowly back, opening his mouth at just letting Dean rest against his tongue, looking up at him with half-lidded eyes.

"Fuckin' hell, Sam," Dean trembled, digging his fingers into Sam's hair and trying to remain upright, "Fuckin' _hell_."

He pulled away and sank down bonelessly into Sam's lap, holding tight to his shoulders and mashing their mouths together, licking and tongue-fucking him like it was his job.

Sam groaned, sucking Dean's tongue as his brother's slick skin reminded him just how ridiculously hard he was, cock stiff and throbbing against Dean's hip.

Dean fumblingly got his hand between them, jerking Sam off tight and merciless, wrenching his orgasm out of him with practiced strokes.

Sam groaned as Dean's thumb continued to rub dirty and slow over the tip of his dick, keeping his nerves on edge. He pulled Dean's hand away with a pained, overwhelmed whine.

"You're going to fuck me later," Dean slurred against his mouth, rubbing their lips together filthily and Sam trembled.

"Yeah," he groaned with a frantic little nod, and Dean sucked on his bottom lip with an answering moan.

They stayed on the floor for several long minutes, kissing and touching under the ongoing stream of hot water until Dean could finally stand, knees weak but functional.

Leisurely they washed and scrubbed, trading long kisses underneath the spray of the shower until their fingers were wrinkly and Sam deemed their procrastination long enough.

"Happy Unattached Drifter Christmas," Sam said later, pushing a Tupperware container full of bacon and eggs into Dean's hand as they walked out the door. Dean smiled, grabbing a fistful of Sam's shirt to reel him in for another slow and loving kiss.

Yes, things were definitely, unquestionably good.


End file.
